


Good Doggie

by xXxdanknoscoperxXx



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amputation, Cannibalism, Gore, Kidnapping, autocannibalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxdanknoscoperxXx/pseuds/xXxdanknoscoperxXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man is kidnapped and forced to become a lunatic's "pet doggie".</p><p>This is a story I wrote several years ago for gurochan, and just recently found everything I'd written on my old harddrive.</p><p>It's unfinished but if people like it I might rewrite and continue the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Fuck you! You're fucking ruining /everything/!" she screamed at him, nearly making the walls shake and tremble from the sheer volume of her seemingly impossibly loud voice. 

Although he jumped back in surprise, not expecting such a violent outburst, the man resisted the urge to cover his ears in order to keep his eardrums from bursting or something of the sort, because her voice was so loud it might have actually been able to do so. 

Even though he knew that attempting to speak to the woman who stood in front of him rationally and try to calm her down would most likely prove to be fruitless, that didn't stop him from trying, as futile as the attempt might be. 

"Anette, please. I'm sorry for upsetting you, love, but—" 

Before he could finish his thought, Anette interrupted him, her voice just as loud, if not louder than before. "Shut the fuck up!" she screamed. "You /always/ fucking do this stupid shit, Niekolaas, and I've fucking /had/ it with your dumb bullshit!" Her face was bright crimson and madder than Niekolaas would have ever been able to imagine her, her small, bony frame seemingly incapable of holding up someone so loud and with such a ferocious temperament. 

Although he knew it would only anger her even further (oh, what did he know, anyway?), Niekolaas attempted to calm Anette down by placing a warm, albeit slightly shaky hand on her delicate shoulder, trying to calm her down in any way he could, trying to keep this girl from becoming any angrier than she already was. But just as he had feared, she rejected his act of comfort and compassion, slapping his pale hand away with one of her own as soon as he even dared touch her with it. 

"No!" her voice resounded throughout the entire room, nearly making Niekolaas's heart stop right in mid-beat. "You're just—" Anette stumbled over her words as she struggled to control her wrath just enough to be able to speak and scream and yell at him properly. "You're just un-fucking-believable!" She slammed the wall nearly with her fist, almost causing the man whom she was addressing to jump back once again. 

"You /always/ manage to fuck something up, no matter /what/ the Hell it is!" Anette stared right at Niekolaas as she spoke, trying to make /damn/ sure he understood that she was angry with /him/; that /he/ was the reason why she wanted to rip someone's fucking throat out right now. 

"And then, instead of growing a fucking pair and /fucking/ facing it like a real man, you just go on! And on! And /on/ with this stupid /bullshit/ of yours, like/I'm/ the fucking one at fault! I'm fucking /sick/ of it, DAMMIT!" 

Then, without warning, she lashed out, taking a stride forward, and struck him hard across the face, the sound of hand hitting cheek reverberating throughout the room. His cheek stung. Badly. But Niekolaas held in the all-too-powerful urge to put a hand up to and rub his sore, sensitive skin better. 

As Anette continued to yell, he simply stayed silent now, looking her directly in her dark-as-night blue eyes, refusing to let her anger make him give, if even an inch. He had wanted to comfort her earlier so he wouldn't have to deal with her anger, or face the guilt of what he had done from her screaming and thrashing and yelling and pure wrath. 

He didn't want to accept that it /was/ his fault; that /he/ was the one who was making her feel this way; like she couldn't even contain any of her anger anymore, and now she wasn't even trying. Now he was returning to his little turtle shell, crawling inside his protective barrier of that stupid goddamned pride, trying to ignore everything that she was saying, attempting to hide from her accusing finger, 

However, after seeing Niekolaas's lack of a reaction, Anette was spurred into another awful, violent fit of wrath. She picked up a small figurine on a nearby shelf, gripped it in her delicate fingers, and threw it with all of her might, straight at Niekolaas, who just narrowly managed to dodge the object flying straight for him. 

At that, the woman screamed so hard, Niekolaas was sure that everyone in the whole neighborhood would have been able to hear. "Get /OUT/ of this /FUCKING/ house, Niekolaas! Just get the fuck /OUT." And, with that, she managed to force him through the door and slam it right in his face. And if he were any closer, Niekolaas knew that it would have broken his nose. 

He heard a small "click" from the inside of the small apartment, and knew that, for the time being, he would not be able to get it, no matter how hard he tried or what he did. But that certainly did not stop him from trying, at least for a little while. 

Niekolaas banged his fist on the door. "Come on, Anette! It's not that bad! You're just overreacting!" He banged twice. Then a third time when there was no answer, jut the nearly inaudible shuffle of small feet on the floor, along with the all-too-quiet sound of soft tears, for which Niekolaas had to put his ear up to the door in order to hear. 

"Fuck," he though, knowing that she would not let him in now. He had to let her calm down now. Who knows how long that would even take with all of her dumbass angry PMSing she seemed to be doing all the time now? Niekolaas hit his head on the door, as one final knock, and rested it there for a few long moments, still listening for any sign that Anette could be moving or shuffling around inside of that small apartment of theirs. But, after he found that he could not hear so much as a single whisper from inside of the room, Niekolaas decided that it was time to go; time to take a walk to one of his friend's house until Anette managed to calm herself down and possibly find her way past all of that vaginal bleeding to forgive him. 

He had made his way all-too-solemnly down the stairs, trying his hardest to resist the urge to just punch holes into the walls with every last step he took out the door. Niekolaas did not even stop to consider that what he had done might have actually been very, very wrong, or even that Anette had a /reason/ to be as hurt as she was. He simply hid inside of his little turtle shell and refused to even glance upon the world around him and see things through her own eyes. 

With one last look back inside of the building, back at where he was leaving Anette, back at where he would, most likely, be able to return to in several, long hours. Niekolaas left, unaware of what was to come. 

 

"What the fuck was her problem anyway…?" Niekolaas's mind echoed as he dragged his feet along the near-empty sidewalk, attempting to find his way around the city in the near darkness, still finding it to be somewhat difficult, even with the streetlights. 

He spit off to the side of where he was walking, wanting to get some of his pent-up anger out, at least just a little, tiny bit. Maybe if he did that enough, he wouldn't want to punch Anette right in her pretty little face, just to make her suffer for kicking him out and inconveniencing him. 

Yeah, that sounded nice. 

Just bringing a hard fist, with all of his might, to one of Anette's smooth, perfect, porcelain cheeks sounded nice. And Niekolaas smiled at the very thought of it, clenching his fist tightly, as though she were right in front of him. 

"Maybe if you just shut the fuck up and plugged up your mouth with my dick like you're supposed to instead of bleeding everywhere--". He pictured her face right in front of him, frightened and trembling from fear of being hit. Without warning, as he felt anger and excitement come over him completely, Niekolaas brought his tightly balled fist to what he thought was Anette's pale face, smiling in satisfaction right as his fist connected. 

However, he soon pulled his hand back away, breathing sharply through his teeth in pain as he realized that he was still wandering outside, that Anette was back in the apartment, and that what he had punched was not his girlfriend's soft little cheek, but instead a hard, solid brick wall. 

He looked down at his own hand for a moment, and could see blood trickling down it from his knuckles, not surprised by the realization, only disappointed anf angry. 

"FUCK," Niekolaas screamed, not even caring about who would happen to hear, not even noticing that he was no longer standing in the street, but had somehow managed to wander into an alleyway. Probably because of the shitty lighting. He also did not even notice when someone came creeping up behind him, ready to do something awful to him, just awful. But what it was, Niekolaas could never have had any idea. 

And before he knew what was going on, all he could feel was the pain from being struck in the back of the head with a blunt object, slowly fading out into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Light from a nearby lamp shone into his eyes through his thin eyelids, and finally managed to rouse Niekolaas from his sleep and cause him to wake, cracking his eyes open, although he only slightly managed to do so before realizing that he felt sorer than he'd ever felt before. It felt as though the back of his head was erupting in pain, and the very realization made him wince pathetically. 

Niekolaas attempted to move around, to feel around the area instead of looking; as he found it impossible to keep his eyes open for long enough to be able to see. However, he soon found that he could not even move enough to do so. He could feel leathery restraints around his wrists, binding his hands together. The same was done for his ankles, making it impossible for him to move. 

He struggled against the restraints, managing to rub some of his own skin until it became sensitive and irritated, Niekolaas found that he would not be able to escape from these binds, no matter how hard he tried. And this frustrated him immensely. 

The man winced as the sore throbbing in his head grew even more powerful from the stress that suddenly enveloped him, letting out a soft groan of pain, yet not quite understanding his situation. Despite the restraints on his arms and legs, he was oddly unfearful of what was around him, because the thought of where he actually was had not yet even crossed his mind. 

Suddenly, he was reminded of that as Niekolaas heard the slow tap-tapping of approaching footsteps and this time, he managed to open his eyes slightly, the pain subsiding just a little bit, just enough for him to part his eyelids without wincing. 

"Oh, you're awake already~" a sing-song voice called out happily as the man who owned it swung an object from hand to hand. Niekolaas could not see who this person was, or even identify the object in his hand, but he suspected that it was the same thing that nearly caved in his skull earlier. And the more he thought about it, the more the sickening realization that something just terrible had happened, and something presumable even worse was to come. 

The tip of the object touched the underside of his chin and lifted his head all the way up, so that Niekolaas was now looking right into the face of this man. The wood that the object was made out of (it was a baseball bat, he could feel) was cold and damp and splintered and painful. But now Niekolaas could force his lids even more open, enough to be able to see that this man had an ominous smile playing on thin lips and a cruel glint in those dark eyes. 

Niekolaas was starting to grow fearful, but his pride would not allow him to give in and cry and scream and beg. He was going to be strong and fight through this and fucking murder this guy, whoever the Hell he was. 

Finally, he worked up the strength to shout, "Jut who the fuck do you think you are?! Where the /fuck/ is this?!" 

The man only smirked condescendingly back down at him. "That's right. A dog should know what his owner's name is." He pushed Niekolaas's head further upward, even though he fought against it, glaring all the while. The man continued after several short seconds, once he had finished admiring his face. "You shall call me 'Master'". He smiled. 

"Now, say it, dog. Say 'Thank you for taking me in, Master'. You should be honored that I saved you from that awful outside world. Shouldn't you, doggie?" He patted Niekolaas's head as he spoke, after lowering the bat back down against his leg. 

Niekolaas only spat back, the saliva landing right underneath "Master"'s eye.   
For that, Niekolaas received a harsh blow to the face, and he could not help but wince in response. 

"Bad dog," the man called out. "Dogs are supposed to be nice to their masters, you naughty boy." He tugged slightly on Niekolaas's dirty blonde hair, causing him to stifle another wince. He wasn't going to give in to this man, no matter what. He wasn't going to let this fucking freak psychopath treat him as though he were nothing more than a filthy dog, and he was going to find a way to get the fuck /OUT/ of there. 

"Say it, dog," the voice boomed in his ears. 

Niekolaas looked right back up, into his eyes. "I'm not going to let this fucking bastard get whatever he wants." The thought resounded in his head. He was too concerned with pride to realize just what would happen to him. 

"You're a very bad boy… You don't even appreciate what your own master does for you…" The man put a hand on Niekolaas's jaw suddenly, and squeezed hard. The smaller man responded by closing one of his eyes in pain and struggling to hold in a pained cry. He struggled against the much-too-powerful hand, trying to break free from the man who called himself "Master"'s grip. 

After a few seconds, however, the hand which had so tightly held his jaw was now relaxed, and instead the rough fingers stroked Niekolaas's cheek gently, as a mother would to her own child. 

"Well," the man began, "I suppose it can't be helped. You were a stray until just a little while ago, right?" he smiled as he spoke. "You're probably still thinking that I'm one of those bad people who would want to hurt a cute little stray, is that it?" 

Niekolaas wanted to yell something out like "Fucking let me go, you stupid asshole! What the /fuck/ are you doing?!" but he couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't help but think that it wouldn't do anything to stop him. 

But wait. Why was he worrying…? This was just some elaborate joke, right? It was, wasn't it? He had no reason whatsoever to worry. 

But he could not help but worry. He couldn't help but have an awful, horrible sinking feeling in his stomach; that this was not some stupid joke. And, as the throbbing in Niekolaas's head slowly returned, he knew that this wasn't just some sick prank. This was real, and if he didn't do something soon, this fucking creeper would try and hurt him. 

But just before he managed to work up the courage to yell, the man started up again, carefully patting Niekolaas's head instead. "I need to make you into my dog first. Everyone has to know who you are." 

"/What/?" screamed Niekolaas, not quite sure of what was about to happen to him, and he wasn't even sure if he wanted to know. But as soon as the word left his lips, "Master" had picked him up bridal style, with a hand underneath him supporting his back, and one hooked under his legs. 

The smaller man struggled hard once more, only to be held even more firmly to this stranger. Whatever it was, he didn't want it; not at all. He just wanted to escape from this, whatever the Hell it was. 

"Don't worry, doggie. It'll only hurt for a second, I swear," the man whispered in Niekolaas's ear, make him kick and flail harder than before, but to no avail. 

The man had taken him to a dimly lit, eerie-looking room, and, now that his eyes could be opened completely, as the fear had made him fight past the pain, Niekolaas could see a pile of coal being heated in the corner, now bright red from the flames. He gulped as he was able to see a metal object on that stack, and he could only hope that it wasn't what he thought it was. 

"Stay right here, doggie. This will only take a minute." The man set him down onto the cold cement floor, backed up into a corner to make it harder for him to try and wriggle away when the man came near. 

Niekolaas still futilely tried to break away from his restraints that held his hands and feet, anything to get away from that thing, as he tried his hardest to start making his way to the door, wiggling around in a desperate attempt to get away from this crazy psycho, to get away from what he was about to do to him. 

But before he could get very far at all, he could hear the man's voice ringing in his ears. "See? Look, it's 'D' for 'doggie'~" he sang out. 

"I have a name, you know! I'm not a /fucking/ dog!" Niekolaas managed to scream despite the horrible fear which now overcame him. 

The man looked confused. "But doggies don't get to pick their own names. Masters decide that for them." With that, he held Niekolaas's head down to the floor, and, despite his thrashing about like a fish out of water, managed to stick the hot metal right to his soft cheek, earning a pained sob from the other, as tears which he was not able to stop rolled lifelessly down his face. 

The thrashing and writhing about ended soon after the man had successfully managed to mutilate Niekolaas's face. 

He pulled off the iron and stood back up to examine his work, the "D" branded into his face rather nicely. 

"Good boy," "Master" said calmly, as he stroked Niekolaas's soft hair, watching him as he slipped from consciousness once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Light suddenly flooded frail, delicate eyes, bombarding them with powerful brightness. Niekolaas slowly began to crack one of his weak eyes open in order to survey his surroundings, even though he was not sure if he actually wanted to know what lay around him. He kept the other eye shut tightly; trying his hardest to fight against the near-unbearable stinging in his cheek, now mutilated and marked. And the very thought of it caused him to feel a surge of some sort of sadness or regret (he couldn't tell which) and Niekolaas struggled to hold back the all-too-powerful urge to cry. 

When his eye was open as much as it would go, he could see only bright, white light. "Have I died?" he thought, the very idea eerily pleasant to him, perhaps because he did not want to experience any more of what had happened earlier. He sighed peacefully as the thought grew a teeny-tiny bit more plausible in his head once he mulled it over, drawing him further into relaxation. 

He imagined the time before what had happened earlier, when Anette still was not angry with him, when everything was just fine and dandy and he didn't have to worry about being shoved out of the house and being left out in the cold darkness, unsure of when he would be allowed back inside of the small apartment and accepted into her thin, frail arms again. At least they were a little bit warmer when she was happy. At least. 

Niekolaas was so trapped in the pleasing sensation of bright light and quiet and near-death that he failed to notice the straps which now pinned him down. His wrists were bound to a metal table, spread far apart from his own body, as well as his ankles. There Niekolaas lay, trying to breathe steadily and stop himself from crying out of guilt and regret, completely in the nude. And he failed to notice. 

Suddenly, a voice cut through his pathetically miserable stupor like a knife, reminding him that he was not dead just yet, or, if he were, that he was definitely in Hell now. Niekolaas tried harder to keep the tears from spilling over; not because he still wanted to look powerful despite his situation, but only because he still wanted to be able to talk some sense into this man and crying would only make his words come out as some garbled, incomprehensible mess. And just the idea of salty tears running over his newly-burned scar was enough to make Niekolaas tremble. 

"Doggie, you wake up too fast..." "Master" said with a frown, his voice resonating with some sort of childlike innocence and worry, somehow managing to make Niekolaas even more fearful of him; even more worried about just what he would do, or at least try to do. 

Niekolaas flinched away from the hand he attempted to put on his head, but "Master" only held the smaller man's head in place with one hand as he proceeded to pet him roughly with the other, running harsh fingers, scarred by bites and cuts and the blood of innocent people (oh God, how many innocent people had to go through this?) through blonde hair mottled with blood and sweat and grime. 

The man smiled once more as he looked back into Niekolaas's frightened eyes, letting go of his head and moving the hand which once held it down to his cheek, the one which was not branded, and stroking it once more, earning a small, pained whimper. Just like a frightened, weak little dog. 

Niekolaas tried his hardest to ignore the stench of dirt and mud and blood and tears that filled his nostrils the second "Master" put his hand on his face, and the damp, moldy musk of the room wasn't helping him in the slightest, instead making the urge to turn his head and vomit even more powerful, as if that were possible. He simply looked away, not even daring to look this psychopath in the face out of fear of what he might do. 

"Oh, doggie," he began once more once he could see that Niekolaas was actually trembling from fear. "I wish that you hadn't woken up so soon. I hadn't even finished preparing everything yet." With that, Niekolaas could hear a loud "click" of metal, and could feel that his neck was now secured to the table on which he lay, leaving him almost completely immobile. 

He pulled against one of the restraints on his ankles, and could only feel the metal digging into his flesh. Although rusty and dull from years of wearing, it still hurt, and it was enough to make Niekolaas stop his struggling. 

He was met with a soft chuckle. "Oh, doggie. You're so silly~!" the man sang out, patting Niekolaas's head once again before continuing. "Doggie, you need to stay still so it won't hurt as much," he said, his voice sterner than before, and somewhat resembling a parent trying to keep his child in line. 

Niekolaas only blinked worriedly, the fear making him forget about the pain he already had and allowing him to open both of his eyes. He wished that he could just pass out into unconsciousness right at that very second, or maybe that he actually would die, so that he would no longer have to suffer through anything else this freak of nature had to dish out. He had already been branded as though he were some cow, and had a nice gash from where he was struck in the back of the head earlier. He didn't need any more, whatever it would be. 

But "Master" only looked concerned and kept right on talking. "If you had just slept a little longer, doggie, I could have just done it while you were asleep but...." He trailed off as he stopped petting, instead gripping a patch of hair gently as he scratched Niekolaas's scalp. The fingers were much rougher than they should have been, and dug painfully into his skin, drawing a little bit of blood which simply mottled and mixed with the blood already caked in his hair. 

"Oh! Doggie!" he tore his hand away from Niekolaas's head, ripping off several strands of hair as he went and causing the smaller man to wince once more in pain. "I have something that will make the pain better." He smiled, showing teeth that were near-rotted with grime and grease. Niekolaas perked up slightly, still somewhat wary. "Would you like that, doggie?" the man asked as he grinned pleasantly, the warmth of his smile betraying the cold of his intentions. 

Paralyzed by fear, and therefore unable to respond with a properly spoken "yes", Niekolaas nodded slowly instead, trying hard not to whimper as he had done before. For that, he received another, slow, gentle pat on the head before the man turned back around to go fetch whatever it was that would help the pain. Niekolaas didn't care what it was. Anything; anything so that he wouldn't have to feel any pain, because he was sure that this asshole wasn't kidding when he said that it would hurt, but he was sure it would hurt much more than the little bit he had made it seem. 

"Master" turned back around to face Niekolaas once more, this time holding a small pill in that grimy, greasy hand of his. Niekolaas eyed it hungrily. Anything to escape the pain that he knew was to come. Anything. Even some pill from the 1980's that had mold growing on it that just might make him suffer horribly right before he plopped down dead right then and there. 

He stuck out his tongue as "Master" came near, wanting to be taken away from this place as soon as possible. 

Instead, the man held the pill away from him, just out of his reach. Niekolaas whined pathetically. "Say it, doggie." "Master" demanded. Niekolaas looked confused. He was so close to crying now that he didn't know if he would be able to hold it in for any longer. 

"Say it, doggie," his voice became even more serious. "Thank me for taking you in, like a good doggie." 

Niekolaas gulped nervously, attempting to hold back the wall of tears just enough to be able to just say it and get it over with; just say it and get it over with. He opened his mouth, still trying to keep himself from weeping aloud. "Th-Th-Th-..." he stuttered, struggling to force the phrase out, the prospect of being relieved of all of his pain made him try even harder to just spit out the words just to get it over with. 

"Thank your master for taking you in, doggie," the man glared angrily down at him, prepared to take the pill right away and keep it away from him, forcing him to go through whatever it was he had in store without any help whatsoever from so much as even a small, worthless little pill. 

Niekolaas blinked hard before pushing past the hard lump in his throat. "Th-Th-… Thank you f-f-for taking m-me in..." he finally managed to force out through chapped lips which were starting to ooze some blood. After glancing at the man's face that still looked unhappily back down at him, he continued reluctantly, "M-M-... Master..." Niekolaas managed to force his way past his own pride. 

He earned a short "Good boy" and a small, warm smile from Master before he held the pill out, close to his face for Niekolaas to swallow up gratefully. Niekolaas did so, taking the old, battered pill with his tongue and gulping it down quickly. 

It tasted absolutely awful, and he had the same damp musk that filled his nostrils as Master had. It was disgusting, and the mold which grew on it tickled the roof of his mouth, giving him a very unpleasant shiver up his spine from the sensation. 

Niekolaas felt bile begin to come up as soon as he managed to force himself to swallow; bile which he had to hold down with every last bit of might that he could have ever possibly had. He had to. He had to. He was too scared of the pain he would have to face on his own without it. He needed that release. No matter how little it would have been, he still needed it. 

Niekolaas was met with yet another "Good boy~" from Master as he petted the smaller man once again. 

"Now, doggie," Master began once again, "are you ready?" He picked up a nearby bone saw from another table, creating an awful noise from metal, rusted with age and stained with dried blood, sliding roughly against metal. Niekolaas's eyes widened as he could see the rough teeth of the saw coming closer and closer and closer. He wanted to shake his head and say "No" that he wasn't ready for whatever it was, but his body simply wouldn't follow, no matter how hard his mind screamed. 

"Don't worry, doggie~" Master sang out, as he usually did. "It'll all be over soon, I promise. And then you'll be the perfect little doggie when I'm done." He gave Niekolaas another one of his much-too-warm smiles. "Doesn't that sound nice, doggie?" 

Niekolaas wanted desperately to scream "NO! You fucking psychopath! Leave me the /fuck/ alone!" But he couldn't do it. Not only would it not have been able to do anything to deter him from his goal, but Niekolaas simply had a hard time getting anything out at the moment. He didn't want to risk vomiting up his only source of any kind of peace for anything, especially something that was almost completely certain to fail. 

But he could not help but try to struggle once more against the restraints in a futile attempt to escape. It was his body versus his mind, and it seemed as though his body were winning at the moment. 

"Now, now, doggie," Master said thoughtfully. "You don't really want to struggle and make it hurt more than it has to, do you? Especially not after trying to make it not hurt so much..." 

Niekolaas's eyes darted around the room as he struggled to keep himself still, his limbs still trembling feverishly, his teeth chattering as though he were submerged in ice water. But this feeling was somehow much worse than that. 

Master placed the rough teeth of the saw on the part of his leg where knee connected thigh and shin, and Niekolaas could feel them cutting into his skin, the pain barely numbed at all by that disgusting pill he had swallowed earlier. 

Suddenly, Niekolaas could feel the jagged teeth begin to cut through his skin, tearing it apart and scraping harshly against bone, the rust and the dullness of the blade making the pain even worse than it already would have been, and, because of this, the tears began to spill right over his face, pouring heavily down his cheeks and burning the dark brand mark on his face. 

Niekolaas struggle to pull his leg away, but it would not respond. The piece of flesh was slowly being hacked off and ripped away from him, and there wasn't a single thing he could to about it. Master was too powerful, and he filled Niekolaas's mind and body with nothing but pure pain as he made Niekolaas into something completely weak and powerless. 

Just like a dog. 

The smaller man turned his head slowly and allowed the vomit which he had been holding back to simply spill over, burning his lips and tongue and settling on the metal of the table right next to him, filling him with the repulsive smell of acid and half-digested food. And still the pain kept right on coming as he could feel the limb being ripped from the rest of his leg, tearing the soft skin and making him cry out in pain, screaming so loudly he was sure that the walls had shook. 

He would have spit out the rest of the vomit that still pooled into a small reservoir in his cheek, but the pain when Master moved onto the next leg was much too great for him to handle. Just like a small, helpless dog, Niekolaas gave in and embraced his third parting from consciousness, no longer caring about the stench of bile mixed with tears or the awful burning of the scar on his cheek; so long as he could escape the worst pain he'd ever felt in his entire life. 

Just like a dog.


	4. Chapter 4

There was darkness all around, threatening to envelop him completely in its cold, unforgiving grasp. But however cold that black was, it was still warmer than where he was now, and he wanted desperately for it to finally take him away from this place. Please, let this time be real. No more teasing, please. Niekolaas hated the teasing feeling of near-death, promising to relive him of all pain, only to have it ripped away from him, bringing him right back to the reality which he so awfully dreaded. 

A loud noise roused him from sleep, suddenly snapping him back to consciousness like a tightly pulled bungee chord. Before he could even realize that he had not yet died, the first thing he noticed was the taste of acid still pooled on his tongue, now cooled and with the same consistency as three-week-old soup, making him gag slightly as some managed to roll back down his throat. 

The soreness in the back of his head was a little bit better than when he had come to for the first time in this awful series of black-outs, but it still hurt. And each and every time Niekolaas's heart beat, his head gave a low, powerful throb, resonating throughout his entire body and making his ears ring dully. 

His face still stung horribly from the brand mark on his cheek, which had been soaked in salty tears and touched by hot vomit. It was surely going to get infected now. But that thought hadn't even crossed his mind yet, perhaps because the horrible throbbing was keeping it out, but probably because Niekolaas began to realize the fact that he was still able to wake despite his want; no, his /need/ to stay asleep. Forever and ever and ever. 

He could have cared less about what exactly the sound was that had woken him. His only thought was of the throbbing, of the stinging, of the aching, and why God would not have had mercy on him and not allowed him to pass on into peace and eternal rest. "FUCK YOU, GOD," he wanted to scream out into the emptiness of the room. But somehow he felt that, in doing so, he would be using up strength which he did not even have, and maybe spiting God to such a degree that maybe he would make Niekolaas suffer even more. 

Just the thought of it made him want to shed tears once more, frightened by the very idea of such a thing. No more of this. Please, please, please, no more. 

But soon the same noise which Niekolaas had heard before brought him right back into reality, forcing him to stay in this awful realm of torture and insanity and blood and hopes and dreams being ripped away from people who deserved to live out the rest of their lives without disgusting stains and scars smudging up their pasts and soiling their futures. 

As he thought of this, Niekolaas was somehow reminded of what had happened before he had drifted off into blackness. The rusted metal of the saw, the cold of the table, the tightness of the restraints, the feeling of old saw teeth tearing through skin and scraping bone, the sensation of blood pooling all around him. Just the very act of recalling such an experience made several large tears roll timidly down his cheeks, burning the brand mark and causing Niekolaas to whimper in pain. 

He hoped as hard as he possibly could, with all of the power he had which was not torn away from his, that all of that was just some awful, gruesome, terrible dream; that it was all just some nightmare he had a little while ago. Yeah, that was it. Just a nightmare like he had when he was little. As soon as he opened his eyes, Niekolaas was sure he would find himself laying on the floor after rolling off the bed, cold sweat pouring down his face, just like when he had scary dreams as a five-year-old. It was better than actually having to experience that dream. 

Even though he did not want to open his eyes for fear of just what he would see (oh God, if that wasn't a dream…), Niekolaas felt that he had to. He had to find the source of this awful pain in his arms and legs. Yes, he could still feel that his legs were there with him. So it must have just been some disgustingly terrible nightmare. 

When his eyes cracked open, at first, Niekolaas could see absolutely nothing. There was no light whatsoever this time when he came to, serving only to make him even more frustrated than he already was, and make him give out a low, sad sob, afraid that he might actually have been turned into some useless, helpless, worthless little half-stump.

He wanted to push himself up so that he would be able to stand; to walk around a bit and find a light source so that he could reassure himself that he was alright; that everything was still there, just where it needed to be. Everything was just fine. He was going to make it out of here and get help and recover and everything was going to be okay. He didn't have to worry any more. He didn't have to worry. 

Niekolaas's hands wouldn't listen to his brain. Oh God, they weren't listening. Fuck. Shit. They weren't listening. Holy fucking shit. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No. This couldn't be happening. 

All he could feel was an area, much fatter than the tips of his fingers, and much, much shorter than he remembered his whole arm being, rubbing up against the ground through rough, yet wet fabric, some of the wetness dried and slightly hardened. 

Niekolaas attempted to use his legs to stand next. He had to find that light source. He had to make sure that he was okay. He had to remind himself that it was just some nightmare. He had to see himself completely alright. He had to wake up from this nightmare. 

He only found the same for his legs as he had with his arms. He only found the same for his legs as he had with his arms. He only found the same for his legs as he had with his arms. 

After discovering this; after the thought of missing both his arms and his legs finally came to him; after realizing that he would no longer be able to walk or hold anything ever again, no matter how hard he would ever want or try to, Niekolaas let out a long, low cry of pain and regret and sorrow and misery, and he wept harder than he ever had before, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. The pain of salt against his burned cheek was absolutely nothing compared to the pain of realizing that he had actually lived through having every one of his limbs sawed off by some crazy, psychopathic madman. 

He flailed his useless stumps-for-limbs around helplessly in a futile attempt to sit up; to get off of his back and crawl away, back to safety; back to security and warmth. Anywhere but here. Anywhere, anywhere, anywhere, anywhere except for this horrible place. But it was all to absolutely no avail. No matter how hard he struggled, no matter how hard he tried. 

Niekolaas screamed when his true situation dawned upon him at last; that he would be stuck here forever; that he was destined to be Master's "little pet doggie" for the rest of his life, the harsh cry echoing throughout the entire room and coming right back to him. 

He was met with that voice. That fucking voice. That voice whose owner managed to singlehandedly fuck up his entire life, rendering him a helpless, hopeless little stump. No arms. No legs. Just his head and torso. 

"Doggie! You're awake!" the voice called out to him as a small yet bright light came on, managing to blind Niekolaas for a short little bit until he was able to adjust his eyes enough to see that fucking retard dipshit psychopath shitface smiling back down at him like the stupid fucking dumbass he was. Niekolaas wanted to scream something right back at him, but he wasn't exactly in a position to do so. He didn't know what else Master would do to him if he did. He didn't want to know. 

Instead, he simply lay on the ground, trembling like the weak, frightened little dog that he was, trying to figure out a way he could just run away and escape, his current lack of anything to run away on the only thing deterring him from attempting to do so. 

"I've wanted to play with you so much, doggie~!" Master sang out, coming closer and closer to Niekolaas, holding out a hand still nearly soaked in blood, out to him, obviously to pet him or some stupid shit. Niekolaas attempted to flinch away from that disgusting hand, so that it wouldn't touch him; so that it would not cause him any more suffering. He couldn't take any more of it. No more, no more, no more. 

But Master only placed that grimy, dirty, greasy hand on his head, mottling Niekolaas's hair with even more blood and ignoring his futile efforts to squirm away from him. Niekolaas gritted his teeth and tried to hold back another wall of tears as Master moved the much-too-gentle hand down to his chin, which was already starting to grow a tiny bit of stubble, and scratched it roughly, leaving a bit of blood on the skin which his fingers touched. 

Niekolaas wanted, more than anything else, to be able to move. He wanted to be able to push himself with working arms back onto working legs and run away from this place forever. But no. 

Upon seeing the frightened and angered expression on the smaller man's face, Master became unhappy. "What's wrong, doggie?" he asked, his voice much more serious than it should have been. "Do you not appreciate what your master does for you?" He grabbed Niekolaas's hair with a monstrously strong hand and gripped it tightly, nearly pulling the strands, caked with dried blood, right out by the roots. 

"Doggie, I will make /sure/ you like me. Doggies /must/ like their masters." 

At that, fear completely overcame Niekolaas, and he could feel a warm, watery liquid pool underneath him, soaking the rough cloth bandages wrapped around the remaining part of his legs. From that, he could feel that the skin around his limbs was sewn shut, covering the bloody holes. He didn't know whether he should have been somewhat grateful or even more pissed off. 

Niekolaas trembled ferociously, turning his head away from Master. He just pissed himself. In front of someone who just might kill him for it. Fuck. He wanted to go; he wanted to pass on already, but not in this fucking embarrassing position. Not like this. Not like this. Not like some worthless little dog that just pissed himself out of fear. 

He didn't dare look back in Master's direction, not even as he could hear the larger man breathing angrily through his nostrils, seemingly unbothered by the strong smell of warm urine. Niekolaas was met by a loud smack to the face with that powerful hand, the sound of skin hitting skin resounding throughout the entirety of the awfully damp room. Niekolaas yelped suddenly as his scar was struck with enough force to leave a deep, red, stinging mark. 

"Bad doggie," the stern voice called out, pointing an accusing finger at Niekolaas and causing his eyes to well up once more with tears. "You're a very, very bad doggie." He lifted Niekolaas so that he was now sitting upright on the hard floor, distraught and soaked in his own urine. 

"Clean it up, doggie," Master commanded him, pointing a thick, bloodied finger at the dark puddle on the floor, glaring disapprovingly at Niekolaas all the while, his eyes giving absolutely no indication that he was joking or that he was even going to have any sort of mercy on Niekolaas. And when he could see Niekolaas staring at him like some frightened deer caught in headlights, Master grabbed his hair once again, pulling on it harshly as he threw Niekolaas back down, face-first into the puddle. 

Niekolaas flailed around what was left of his limbs, attempting to pick himself back up; out of that disgusting, foul-smelling liquid, It was burning his cheek (God, everything was hurting that fucking brand mark, wasn't it?) and he had to shut his eyes as tightly as possible to keep any from getting inside. Fucking disgusting. There was piss right in front of his face and if he actually had to drink any of it he was sure that he was going to vomit again. And if he had to eat that… Oh God. Just the thought of it was enough to make his stomach start churning around again. 

"Clean it, doggie! Clean it!" Master commanded once more, putting a booted foot on Niekolaas's head and pressing down on it, forcing his face into the puddle until he found it to be difficult to even breathe. He let out a long sob through his teeth, finding the pain impossible to bear after just a few short seconds (which seemed like an eternity to him). 

Struggling to keep any air from coming in or out of his nose in order to keep the awful smell of urine out and trying his hardest to ignore what he was about to do, Niekolaas stuck out a dry, harshly textured tongue and lapped up some of the foul urine, all the while trying not to scream. 

Master took his foot off of Niekolaas's head after he had witnessed this, standing back, beside him and crossing his arms, watching Niekolaas intently, ready to put him right back into his place if he decided to disobey his master once again. 

There was piss in his mouth. There was piss in his mouth. There was piss in his mouth. Fucking gross. He wouldn't be able to stomach it. Niekolaas knew that he wouldn't be able to. Fuck. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Master's eyes were boring holes right into him; he could feel it without even having to look. Fuck. Uh.... Water! Yeah, water! It was just water; nothing else. All he had to do was imagine that it was water, Water, water, fucking /water/, Hot, putrid, foul, dirty water. 

He finally managed to force that liquid down his throat, simply allowing it to drip down his esophagus like some sort of disgusting trail of water. He cried awful tears after he managed to finally force it down. He wouldn't be able to take any more of this terrible torture. 

"P-P-Please!" he somehow managed to stammer out, afraid of what the consequences would be for his outburst. "I-I can't. I-I-I'm s-s-sorry… M-…" He paused, still not wanting to continue, but only because of his own pride. "M-… Master." The words slid off of his tongue just like putrid urine, and he shook as though he were caught in the middle of some powerful earthquake. 

Surprisingly, Master did not punish Niekolaas for his sudden outburst. "You're such a sweet little doggie!" he called out, smiling like the disgusting little child he was. 

"I have something for you, doggie… Wait right here. I'll go bring it for you~" Master sang to him as though none of what he had just forced Niekolaas to do had ever happened. 

As soon as Master was out of hearing range, Niekolaas retched all over the floor beside him, and it smelled like piss.


	5. Chapter 5

The cold, eerie dampness of the room, and the fact that Niekolaas could not even escape from it served only to make him shake and tremble even more, the hair on his body standing on end from the goose bumps that formed on his pale, bruised, bloody, dirtied, thin skin. His breath, no matter how hot he attempted to make it, was cooled by the temperature of the room until even the hottest puffs became unbearably cold, and numbed the thin, pale lips from which they managed to escape. 

Niekolaas could not even fathom how he had earlier managed to work up the strength in order to lift his head up to look at Master, and actually force the near-guttural sounds through his throat and out his mouth. Just the mere thought of having to do something like that again right now was enough to make his heart sink even further down in his chest than it already was. 

And the position in which he was was just as awful as when the old, disgusting, horribly rusted blade had slid (more like tore) through his taught skin and harshly separated the strong, hard bones in his legs. And simply reliving that through memory (still strangely vivid even though Niekolaas had never wanted it, such a terrible memory, in the first place anyway). 

He lay, once again, right beside, and even laying inside, pools of his own bodily fluid. Master had not helped Niekolaas up when the poor man had begged for mercy on him, and he simply still lay in that putrid puddle of his own urine, trying to ignore and somehow forget the fact that he had actually attempted to swallow some of it earlier. But he could not forget, just as he could not forget that he had just lost both his arms and his legs (which he was still not yet used to, by the way. How could he possibly be?) 

The other, smaller puddle of liquid sat right in front of Niekolaas's face: vomit. His paled, now-colorless cheek was laying half in the puddle of urine, and half in the stomach fluid. He fought hard to keep himself from breathing through his nose, in order to keep out both the smell of piss and the stench of the vomit, which was a sign of his failed attempt at holding down that foul-smelling, yellow, watery liquid that came out of him only out of fear earlier. 

He gulped even though his mouth felt dry, still shutting his eyes tightly, perhaps as an attempt to keep either of the fluids from entering them, or to not see any more of what was to come for fear that he would not be able to take it, or maybe both. But as he lay there, trying to calm his feverish quivering and trembling and maybe even imagine that he was just back home, lying in bed, he could still hear and feel that his fantasy of being in a normal place was not going to stick, and that reality was willing to just tear away that one last little piece of hope and comfort that he had. 

His head still rested upon cold, hard, rough concrete which scratched and poked angrily at his sensitive, branded cheek. Even though his nostrils were as closed as Niekolaas could ever possibly get them to be on his own, the awful, sickening smell of his own fluids and waste still managed to seep slowly into his mouth and nostrils and fill them both with that disgusting stench. 

And somewhere in the corner of the room, Niekolaas even thought that he could hear the squeaky pitter-patter of a large rat scurrying across the floor, trying to find some kind of food for his own little family of rats, probably. But the idea of being close to such a dirty rodent was enough to make him give out a near-silent sob. 

But wait… Food… Hw long had it been since he had last eaten something? At least twenty-four hours, probably. It had seemed as though Niekolaas had been stuck here for a whole week, though; much, /much/ longer than just one fucking day… The man's stomach slowly grumbled as he thought about it. The least that he could get now was just a nice, hot plate of food and maybe an arm and a hand and some fingers with which he might actually have been able to eat it. 

And he had been so caught up in his own thoughts of food that he had failed to even notice Master's approaching footsteps until the echoing of his shoes plopping down on the floor was so loud, Niekolaas could tell just by the sound of him walking that he must have been no farther away than just beyond the entryway to the room in which he was. 

And Niekolaas could not help but shudder pathetically when the sound of Master's voice filled his now-frail and sensitive ears completely, blocking out that disturbing sound of rat scurrying from before. 

"I'm back, doggie!" that /fucking/ voice rang out again. That /fucking/ voice. But Niekolaas couldn't bring himself to say that, not even within the safety of his own mind. He was too afraid that Master would somehow know, just by the look on his frightened face. 

But Master didn't notice, or he just managed to keep his own temper under control for once. Probably the former instead of the latter, considering how he had snapped so easily before. 

"Look what I brought back for you, doggie~!" Master sang. What? What could he have /possibly/ brought back for him? Maybe it was actually something that would ease his pain this time. Just maybe. Niekolaas adjusted his gaze, ever-so-carefully, to keep his eyes from being hurt by the light which still shone down upon him. He slowly managed to fix his gaze upon the object which Master held in his hand. 

No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Just what the /fuck/ was he trying to do to him? 

Held in Master's hand was one of Niekolaas's old, bloody, limp, useless, severed arms. And Niekolaas stared at the appendage, whimpering all the while, finding it odd and yet somehow extremely frightening to be able to recognize one of his own body parts when it was not attached to him, and he was no longer able to use it as his own. A tear rolled down his cheek as something suddenly overcame him. 

"I thought you would be hungry, doggie…" said Master, a happy-go-lucky, cheerful, warm grin; the same thing that he always wore; that same mask that he always seemed to wear, except for when Niekolaas was being "a bad doggie". But Niekolaas didn't say anything about it. He didn't want to, and felt that, if he did, he would be punished even more harshly than he had been before. This man could do anything he wanted to him… Niekolaas shuddered just to think of it. 

"Here, eat up. You don't need this anyway, and it's good food, doggie." Master waved the severed limb in front of Niekolaas's face, brushing the fingers up against his pale cheek. He trembled and shifted uncomfortably, the feeling of his own fingers touching him and being unable to sense anything from those fingertips was awfully unnerving and frightening. 

He winced when Master placed his other hand, unused at the moment, under Niekolaas's now-bruised up shoulder and lifted him up so that he was sitting upright on the hard concrete floor, as well as he could without any legs, still shaking feverishly. 

"Go ahead," Master said happily, now brushing the limp fingers against Niekolaas's thin lips, trying to tease him with it, perhaps. But Niekolaas didn't notice. All he could see was a severed arm right In front of his face, and he stared at the appendage, wide-eyed and frightened out of his wits. It took him all of his strength to keep himself from screaming just as loud as he possibly could. He sat, hyperventilating and whimpering as the nails of his fingers scratched his face. 

Another tear rolled down his cheek before he heard Master say, "Eat it, doggie. It's food. Eat it. You're not going to get anything else, you know." His voice turned a little bit more serious than it had been earlier, but his face still had the same ominous warmth that it had always had. The same warmth which had made Niekolaas want to just shit himself right then and there. Thank God he didn't, or he might have actually had to eat that too. 

"P-Please… N-N-No…" Niekolaas whispered. "D-Don't… Please…" He wasn't going to eat that. He couldn't. He just couldn't. 

Master did not give him the same understanding as he had earlier, and instead drew the arm back and brought it back down again, hitting it harshly against Niekolaas's cheek and causing him to yelp in pain and surprise. But why…? He asked nicely. Was he actually going to have to go through with this…? No, please no. No, no, no, no, no. He wouldn't. 

"How /dare/ you say that you're not going to eat any of your food which your own master has provided for you? You should be /grateful/, doggie. /Grateful/ that I even gave you any food." His face suddenly grew much more serious as he stared right down at Niekolaas, as though he just might kick him or punch him or do something else to hurt him and make him suffer even more than he already had. 

"I could have just as easily not given you anything, you know. You're really much too stubborn, doggie." He shoved the arm back into Niekolaas's face again, this time it was part of the forearm which rested against his lips, The smaller man was reluctant to even touch it, for he remembered just how sensitive that area was when it was still attached to him. 

"Eat it!" he yelled. "Now, doggie! Now!" If he got any angrier, Niekolaas was sure that there would be smoke coming out of his ears soon, and he didn't want to rick being the one to have done that to him, and the one to have to face his wrath when or if it did happen. 

As the tears began to stream down his face, Niekolaas making nearly no effort to stop or hinder them whatsoever, as he knew that trying to do so would do him absolutely no good. 

He shut his eyes tightly once more, trying to push out of his mind what he was about to do; trying to ignore the fact that he was about to actually /eat/ some of /himself/. If that wasn't messed or fucked up in any way, Niekolaas didn't know what was anymore. But still the tears continued to roll down, and some mucus began to roll down and out of his nose, staining his upper lip, and the thick substance made it somewhat difficult for him to breathe. He attempted to take small, shallower breaths, trying to calm himself down just enough to be able to eat what was being held in front of him. 

"Well, doggie?" That voice made more tears spill down his face, and more mucus come down as well, until he had to open his mouth in order to breathe, as air could no longer pass into his lungs through his nose. 

Master took that opportunity to shove the section of arm into Niekolaas's dry mouth, and the smaller man let out a scream when Master continued to press it into his face, not letting go or relaxing the pressure he was putting on Niekolaas's face for anything, not even the sorrowful, hopeless tears that poured down his face, plopping into and joining the splotch of damp concrete below him. 

Seeing no other choice, and fighting past the fact that he was not able to breathe properly, instead forced to make sloppy, nasally sounds as he attempted to breathe through his clogged nose, Niekolaas bit down on the flesh in front of him, finding it somewhat difficult to bite. Not only because it was his own arm, but because it was raw, chewy, tough skin and fat and muscle. 

His vision was weak and blurry when Niekolaas finally decided to open his eyes, a disgusting piece of his own flesh lying in his mouth. It was absolutely sickening, and the chewy feel and awful, terrible taste was enough to make him vomit again. For the /third/ fucking time. Everything this guy was making him do was fucking sickening. No more. He wanted no more. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. 

"Go ahead. Swallow your food, doggie." Master pulled the arm away for a moment as he watched Niekolaas struggle to force himself to swallow. It wouldn't be as easy as simply letting it drip down his throat like urine. He actually had to /chew/ it and /swallow/ it. 

Niekolaas struggled to keep himself from sobbing aloud; keeping it back in his throat, just until he was able to swallow what was in his mouth. Just until he was able to swallow it. 

He tried to chew the bit of flesh on his tongue just enough to be able to swallow; just enough to be able to be over and done with it. 

He shut his eyes again, trying to ignore the feel of his own skin and fat and muscle, before he bit own on it hard, cringing at the feeling of it squishing in between his teeth. Disgusting. It was absolutely fucking sickening. But he had to ignore it, or he would be punished even more by Master. 

After several long moments, and feeling Master's horrible stare upon him, Niekolaas finally managed to force himself to swallow that piece of meat and skin that he ripped off of his own arm. 

He almost threw up again when it was halfway down his throat, but he managed to hold it down. 

"Good job, doggie~!" Master called out, and Niekolaas struggled to open his eyes, allowing more tears to fall. 

"Now eat the rest of your food." He stared down at Niekolaas, shoving the arm back into his face. 

Niekolaas sobbed loudly before it was placed in his mouth, cutting him off. 

"You're such a good doggie~" Master patted his head softly, smiling all the while.


End file.
